


From The Ashes Of Our Fathers

by darthmelyanna, miera



Series: stargate_ren [24]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-08
Updated: 2008-12-17
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthmelyanna/pseuds/darthmelyanna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: With Cheyenne in ruins, John faces another battle - defending his people from the devastating consequences of war.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place at the same time as "The Summit."

John dreamt of water. An ocean was spread before him. A lone figure stood near the water's edge – a woman, with dark hair and fair skin. She looked out expectantly towards the horizon, but the sea was wide and empty.

"My lord?"

He grunted, blinking up at Nicholas as the images from his dream fled his mind. The squire was shaking his shoulder. "My lord, you must rise. The governor is expecting you shortly."

Suppressing a groan, John swung his legs off the bed and sat up. His body ached with exhaustion. Dawn was just beginning to color the eastern skies outside, and it had been long after the last light of sunset had faded when he had gone to bed. Still, his tiredness did not seem to matter much these days. The entire city was tired.

He went to the kitchen of the manor house and splashed water on his face. The one thing that was not in short supply was water. The summer storms meant both the rivers which framed the city of Cheyenne were high.

Framed the _ruins_ of Cheyenne, he amended to himself, wiping his face on his tunic and walking out into the courtyard.

The capital of Sheppard was situated near the confluence of two deep rivers that came down from the mountains and crossed the foothills. Somewhat larger than Madrona, which lay to the north, Cheyenne had been a bustling city even in the years following the Ori wars. The ready supply of water meant the area was more suited to farming than much of the rest of the province, and the rivers provided some protection for the huddled buildings against an enemy siege.

What had brought down Cheyenne was not a straightforward assault but a stealth attack. A small group of Jaffa had broken off from the main Goa'uld army which had passed to the south. They had lain in wait in the hills and then sneaked up on the defenses of the city in the dead of night. They had thrown lighted torches and shot flaming arrows into the midst of the buildings. The density of the city's dwellings had been their downfall. The flames had caught and spread so fast there was barely any time for the residents – and the great mass of refugees who had come to Cheyenne on John's father's orders – to do aught but race to the rivers and submerge themselves.

The defenders had managed to kill two of the Jaffa before they could flee. On the second day after his arrival, John had gone to see the bodies. He was unsurprised to see the insignia of Ba'al etched on their foreheads. The Goa'uld army had since passed out of Caldoran lands, but in his heart, John swore that Ba'al's actions would not go unanswered.

With Nicholas trailing behind him, John started walking through the blackened piles that had been houses. Over and over since his arrival, John had heard the same tale from the survivors. The people had been sleeping when alarms began to sound. At first they had thought the Goa'uld had surrounded the city, before word began to spread from the few remaining members of the militia to run for the water. Many of the people had not had time to grab any valuables or even food from their burning homes.

The searchers were still finding remains of the dead in the charred husks of the buildings, but far fewer had died than would have if such a tragedy had struck Madrona. The nearness of the rivers had given the people somewhere to go to for protection, and thankfully the old stone keep on the northern side of the city had served as a firebreak. Many of the buildings that lay beyond the fortress and the manor house had been rescued by the stone buffer. The delay had allowed the residents there to organize themselves to relay buckets of water to douse the flames and prevent them from spreading any further.

But nearly everything from the keep to the point where the rivers met was gone.

Almost as soon as he appeared on the streets John was besieged the people who were sleeping in the dirt because they had nowhere to go, all of them begging for answers he didn't have. Many of the refugees had already left the city, once confirmation had come that the last of the Goa'uld had crossed the border, but many more were stranded. Their homes and farms had been destroyed by the Goa'uld sweeping across Caldora, and the food and supplies those farms would have generated was gone as well. Now there was nothing for them in Cheyenne either, with the food stores burned and little shelter to be found. Tensions between the refugees and the residents were becoming palpable, and the men of the militia who had either come with John or followed him here had their hands full keeping fights from breaking out.

He threaded his way through the congested streets, trying to give comfort while evading questions, until he reached the governor's home, which had survived the fire. John had ordered that any damaged buildings that could be saved from complete collapse should be attended to first. How to rebuild everything else from scratch when they had few resources to do so was, at this point, a secondary concern compared to the need for food and medical supplies.

Elrad, the Lord Governor of Cheyenne, was waiting within when John entered the great room of the governor's manor house. A short man with gray hair and a gray beard and a perpetually worried expression, he looked nearly as exhausted as John felt. Elrad had only been governor of the city for about five years, and he had been elevated to the position when there had been no hereditary heir to the last governor of the capital. Not everyone had agreed with Lord Geoffrey's choice in the matter.

Lord Malchus was one of those who had felt Elrad had been the wrong man for the job of ruling Cheyenne. Malchus was slightly younger than the governor and had always been ambitious. He personally owned a number of buildings in Cheyenne, which had increased his wealth and influence in recent years, or so John's father had told him before he died. Many of those structures had been destroyed in the fire.

Elrad had gathered the prominent merchants and Malchus, who was the only other member of the nobility of Sheppard in Cheyenne at the moment, for the meeting. The first portion of the conversation was taken up with re-canvassing the dire situation the residents now found themselves in. John did his best to remain awake and merely listened to the latest reports on supplies and food. The news had not dramatically improved since the previous day and he sank a little lower in his chair, in spite of a voice in his head nagging him that a marquis should not be slouching so much.

Elrad decreed some of the militia's young boys – the ones John had ordered to remain behind from the army because of their age – should be sought out to help with the fishing, in the hope that they might gain some more food from the rivers. This being agreed on, Malchus rose and John got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"My lord marquis, may I ask what is being done regarding the rebuilding of the lost portions of Cheyenne?"

"We have been focusing on food and shelter, Lord Malchus, as you know. I have not had much time to turn my mind to the matter yet."

Malchus nodded. "Indeed. If I may, I should like to put forth a proposal." He beckoned to one of his lackeys, who brought forth a roll of parchment, which he then spread out on the table. Everyone rose to get a better view.

"This is a map of Cheyenne," observed one of the other men.

Elrad frowned. "The shape is of Cheyenne, but the streets... my lord, this is not the correct layout of the peninsula."

"It is not the _same_ layout, my lord governor. Whether it is correct or not is a matter of personal opinion."

John studied the map. As with most cities, Cheyenne had grown from a small outpost to a village to a town over the course of many centuries. The roads had followed natural pathways carved out by time. It was not, perhaps, a method that yielded logical results when mapped to paper, but John had never seen a city that had come into being any other way.

The lines on the map before him were in different places than they had historically lain. The roads had been redrawn. Muttering broke out around the table, which quickly escalated to full-scale yelling. Malchus and his friends were advocating for the new map, while the other half of the room protested the changes. Elrad was forced to bellow for order before silence fell again.

"My lord marquis?" Malchus asked, his expression rather smug.

John admitted to himself if not aloud that the new map had more logic to it and possibly made a better use of the space on the peninsula than the old way. However, it did not escape his notice that the roads were drawn to benefit the parcels of land that Malchus owned, while bisecting or obliterating lands belonging to other men.

He raised his head and looked at Malchus. John had never particularly cared for the man, and the fact that Malchus was not so old but had still remained in the city rather than joining the army during the invasion rankled. He would dearly have loved to tear into the arrogant fool, if for no other reason than to vent his own frustrations, but he doubted it would do any good.

John settled for giving the noble his most imperious look. "Lord Malchus, I will take your proposal under advisement, but you must realize that the care of our people is my first priority."

Malchus wilted just slightly under the glare of the marquis. "Of course, my lord," he said with a little bow.

John nodded to Elrad and turned. Elrad looked upset, which was not in itself new. Nicholas was standing near the wall, and John caught a look of mingled disgust and contempt on the young man's face as they left the house and returned to the street.

"What is it, Nicholas?"

The squire drew in a breath. "I did not get a close look, but I imagine Lord Malchus' new map would not interfere with his own lands or holdings in Cheyenne?"

John nodded. "While undercutting at least three of his rivals that I saw."

Nicholas muttered something involving "shameless" but before John could reply, he was accosted by a woman imploring him to help her and her three children, who were now without a roof over their heads. He was forced to put aside the politics of Lord Malchus and offer more empty reassurances to his subjects.

*~*~*~*

Until the day of her death, Janet Fraiser would never forget the first sight of the destruction wrought upon Cheyenne by the Goa'uld.

News of the burning of the capital had reached Madrona swiftly; it was initially feared the Goa'uld might also attack Madrona on their way back to their own lands. But the enemy ignored Sheppard's other city and departed, and Janet and her daughter had made haste to get to Cheyenne. She had known without a doubt that the marquis and his cousin would go straight to the capital and Janet wished to aid them in any way she could.

Janet had come into the service of Lord Geoffrey and Lady Isabelle in Cheyenne. It had been in the capital she had drawn the notice of the marchioness of Sheppard and ended up as the physician to the family during the long years of the war. Cassandra had passed much of her childhood in their small house not far from the great stone manor that was the family seat.

It was from Cheyenne that the six sons of the marquis had left to fight for the Ori.

It was to Cheyenne that John had returned, alone, so many years later.

The city had always been noisy and crowded, full of people from all parts of Caldora coming to trade and explore. The Ori and their destruction had dampened the spirits of Cheyenne, but they had slowly revived. The capital had always seemed to Janet to be the best and most hopeful part of the province.

Now much of it lay in ruins. It was miraculous that so few lives had been lost, but the destruction of many of the buildings was complete. There was no easy way to rebuild what had been destroyed, and Janet worried about the coming winter and the toll it would take on the people here.  
  
Her hands had been full the first few days, helping the few doctors in the city with the myriad injuries. The great hall of the manor house had been given over as an infirmary. As usual, one poor woman's child had picked the worst possible moment to arrive, and she and Cassie had spent a sleepless night tending to the woman and the baby girl, though both mother and child survived the birth. Now that some time had passed, all the lesser injuries had been dealt with, and Janet had some time to breathe.

Cassie approached her with two bowls of weak stew in her hands and they found an out of the way corner to sit and eat their midday meal.

"Mother, has Lord John said anything about when he expects Lord Cameron to return?"

Janet sighed. "He has not. Whenever the king releases him, I imagine."

Cassie shook her head. "I do not understand this. Lord Cameron is needed here. He is second to the marquis. His place is with his people now."

Janet had her own opinion on precisely why her daughter was so adamant that Cameron return to Cheyenne. She didn't mention that to Cassie, however. Instead she again repeated what John had told her. "Lord Cameron was badly injured in the fighting. It is probably better for him to be with the king right now. If he were here, he would be insisting on helping with manual labor he should not be attempting."

Cassie huffed out a breath and fell silent. In her heart, Janet agreed with her. The news about Cameron's injuries only made Janet more anxious. She would not feel easy until she had the chance to examine Cameron for herself. There were only two left of Geoffrey and Isabelle's house now, and Janet considered the two young men to be her responsibility. She owed her friend and her patron that much.

She finished her meager lunch and got up. It was growing late and someone needed to look after Lord John and be sure he kept his strength up.

*~*~*~*

John had spent the rest of the morning chasing all over Cheyenne, seeing to the reinforcements of the damaged buildings, checking in with the militia and guards and hearing the pleas of the homeless and hungry. The entire time he was aware of the growing anger in the eyes of those he met.

It almost made him wish he'd left Cameron here to manage this place while he went to Elizabeth. To the summit.

Well after midday, John was looking unsuccessfully for Nicholas. Cameron had left the young man with instructions to aid the marquis in any way he could. Nicholas did not even know where Cameron had gone, though John had several times almost slipped the secret to the younger man.

He didn't find Nicholas, but his path was abruptly barred by a short figure with auburn hair who had her hands set sternly on her hips. "My lord, you must sit and eat something."

John ran a hand through his hair. "Janet," he protested half-heartedly.

She didn't speak, she simply glared. John had not forgotten the inevitable result of trying to argue with the ferocious woman, and he honestly welcomed the excuse to sit still for a few minutes. His stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since last night, so he gave in and allowed Janet to herd him back into the manor's kitchen where a small bowl of thin stew was waiting for him. It was little more than weak broth with a few tiny pieces of fish, but it was all they had.

He pointedly looked at the chair beside him. Janet gave in with a huff and sat down. As he ate, she updated him on her patients and the general health of the city. Janet had by now ceased questioning Cameron's absence aloud, but John still felt her curious looks as strongly as he felt the silent accusations of his people.

Janet's report on their supplies was not encouraging. "The storehouses have been scavenged down to the last straw and grain. The fishermen are not catching enough to supply the entire city. The wheat crops that were not trampled are still weeks away from harvesting, and the fruit in the orchards is not yet ripe. I've already seen several sick stomachs from people attempting to eat food that was not yet ready." Janet waved a hand helplessly. "If we cannot find some way to feed the people in Cheyenne, my lord..."

John nodded. To Janet he could speak of the fear that had been growing in him for the last two days, which he dared not mention to most others. "I fear we may need to abandon the city," he said lowly.

She didn't flinch. There was no other conclusion. The longer they lingered here, the fewer would be able to leave, being too weak from hunger. But all of Sheppard, indeed most of Caldora, was struggling in the aftermath of war. John could order the people to evacuate Cheyenne, but where could they go that would have food and shelter? Madrona had emptied of refugees, and because the Goa'uld had not gone very far north, the homes and farms in that region were intact, but the reserves that normally would see them through to the harvest were decimated there as well. There simply was little food to spare anywhere in the country.

John had considered privately whether a direct appeal to the Queen of Atalan or one of her advisors might help, but he knew Elizabeth and Jack were both attending the summit and out of reach. Any message from him would not reach them in time to solve the immediate crisis.

John looked around the kitchen. The main hall was full of the injured and ill, there being few other places to put them. As a boy he had chased through these rooms, running after his brothers, scaring the maids and cooks out of their wits. His imagination conjured the specter of the manor left empty and desolate, and he coughed, the last spoon of soup choking him.

More than anything, he wished for his father's counsel. He did not know what to do.

There was a noise in the hallway and then a young man, wearing the uniform of the militia, hurried into the kitchen and bowed to John. "My lord marquis, the countess returns."

John stood up. He had little hope that the Countess of Cimmeria would bring back good news, but he would be expected to meet her as soon as she reached the city. He was in need of counsel from this old friend of his family.

*~*~*~*

In the ancient times, centuries before Caldora had united as a single nation under one ruler, the lands around Cheyenne had been part of the kingdom of Cimmeria. Cheyenne itself had been a northern trading post in the realm, and a center of pilgrimage, for a great temple of the Asgard had lain but a few miles distant along the riverbank. The temple had fallen into disrepair and then been abandoned long ago. Only piles of rubble remained, but the current countess passed them on every journey between her family's ancestral seat and Cheyenne, and they never failed to evoke sadness within her heart for the lost glory of her people.

The changing tides of fortune had lead to Cimmeria's decline and eventually it was absorbed by the growing power of Sheppard. What had been little more than a tiny array of sheep herders scratching out a living in the mountains had evolved into a mighty province, and several generations ago, the ruler of Sheppard had married the Princess of Cimmeria, uniting the two realms into one entity. The eldest son of that union inherited the rule of Sheppard and it was from his bloodline that Lord John's family came. The second son of that marriage, however, had assumed the title of Cimmeria and his descendants maintained the name and the bloodline to this day. The preservation of Cimmeria's ruling house had been a condition of the marriage contract.

The Countess of Cimmeria held the highest position in Sheppard after the marquis and his immediate family. Though it was mostly a courtesy, she expected to be and was consulted in most of the major decisions that affected the province. The governor of Cheyenne traditionally was not chosen without her input. When the news of the Goa'uld invasion had arrived, she had concurred with Lord Geoffrey's orders and brought her own household into Cheyenne as an example to the people.

Lady Gairwyn looked about as her horse crossed the western bridge into Cheyenne. A few days previously she had left to lead her servants and household back to the family's manor, which lay farther up in the hills. She wanted to remove some of the burden from the city's strained resources, and also see if any supplies could be scrounged from her own home.

Lord John met her in the street not far from the keep. She could not miss the flash of resignation on his face when he saw that she had only one pack mule with her. Most of her own food stores had been brought to Cheyenne weeks earlier. There was not much she could take from her home now without risking starving her own servants. But he offered a hand to help her dismount. "Countess, I trust you were able to settle your household in their proper quarters again?"

She nodded. "They are glad to be home." She dropped her voice slightly. "I am sorry I could not find more food to bring back with me-"

He waved her off and Gairwyn was struck with how tired he looked. She had felt a little guilty, sleeping quietly in her own bed these last two nights. "I cannot expect you to conjure something from nothing, my lady. If it were only a matter of redistributing a ready supply from one place to another, I would accomplish it with the point of a sword if necessary. But there is nothing to borrow from those who are themselves begging."

Her horse was led to the stables and they began to walk towards the manor house together. The afternoon was warm and people were sitting in what little shade was available. Gairwyn shifted slightly closer to John. "There has been no word of supplies coming from the capital?" She could not believe King Henry would be so callous about the fate of one of his most important provinces.

John shook his head. "Not a sign. I confess, Countess, I am relieved you are returned. I need your counsel on what is to be done about the city."

Something in his tone made her stomach tighten. A few weeks earlier it would have been unthinkable to her that the young marquis might order the abandonment of his own capital, but she could see the fear and desperation in his face. John clearly felt that the supplies from Redwater – which she firmly believed had to be coming – would not arrive in time.

 _There has to be some other option,_ she thought. "Is there no livestock left?" Many of the animals in Cheyenne were going unfed. Most of the chickens and pigs that had survived or been reclaimed after the fire had already been slaughtered for food.

They paused near the main well in the courtyard and Gairwyn drank greedily. The road had been dusty.

John waved a hand towards the rear of the manor. "There are two cows remaining. We need the milk for the little ones. I have ordered them kept under guard, and as long as there is grass for them to chew, they should survive. We should have spared some of the chickens for eggs." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand up further.

"There was not much time in the aftermath of getting the fires out to think of such things," she said diplomatically. "By the time the shortage of food was apparent, it was too late to save any of them." She sat down on the edge of the well. "You truly believe we must send the people from Cheyenne?"

He was silent a moment before answering. "I know that unless some miracle occurs in the next day, there is no way to feed them here. But I have no idea where they might go to find food and shelter for themselves. The entire country struggles in the aftermath of war."

John bit his lower lip anxiously and her heart throbbed. The gesture was a familiar one to her, though the memory of the other man she had known with the same nervous habit still sent a wave of pain through her whenever she thought of him. She pushed the past aside as John sat down next to her.

"I keep asking myself what my father would do if he were here," John said lowly. Gairwyn knew John was not a young man by the standards of the day, but in that moment he seemed again like the boy she'd first met so many years ago. She put a hand on his arm comfortingly.

"Your father was a brilliant man, but he was not the master of all fates, John. He had to act on faith as much as on his own knowledge."

John eyed her somewhat resentfully. "You believe I am giving up."

"I think you have just fought a war and now are trying single-handedly to save an entire city," she said calmly. "The king will not abandon us. I am sure he is organizing supplies to come from Redwater. We must hold out until they can reach us."

John did not say anything else. At length he stood. "You must wish to rest and clean up after your journey. I will see to the disposition of the supplies you brought. You will join me for the evening meal?"

She nodded and John bowed and turned away. Sighing, she made her way to her own room in the manor to wash the dirt from her face and hands. She sent up a prayer to the ancestors, hoping against hope that some solution to their problem would appear in time.


	2. Chapter 2

The daylight was just beginning to fade as John and Gairwyn sat down to the evening meal with Janet and her daughter. The two women had known one another for many years, and John knew Gairwyn, unlike some noblewomen, would not be offended at sharing a table with a commoner.

For his own part, John was brooding over the state of things, and just as happy to be left mostly in peace while they talked. Knowing what he did about the king's whereabouts, he couldn't be so sanguine about the idea of relief coming from Redwater. Gairwyn didn't know about the summit meeting, and John couldn't tell her that her belief that the king was marshaling resources on their behalf was based on a false assumption that King Henry was still in Caldora.

The uncertainty of it all plagued him. While he liked Princess Carolyn, John had no idea how efficient she would be, if she was even undertaking the task of organizing supplies at all.

The conversation between the countess and the midwife lagged for a moment and Cassie made an impatient motion towards the empty place at the table. "My lord, do you know where Master Nicholas is? He should have returned by now."

John was about to say he would go look for his cousin’s missing squire when Nicholas appeared in the doorway. Even from a distance, he was clearly agitated. John braced himself for whatever new disaster was about to strike. "My lord? There are wagons approaching the city."

John darted up from the table, half alarmed, half hopeful. "From which direction?"

"They are on the road that leads east." John and the others were already moving towards the street as he spoke. Nicholas drew up alongside John and dropped his voice so that Janet and Gairwyn, who were following, would not easily hear it. "I believe one of the wagons bears the symbol of the Asgard, my lord."

John nearly stumbled at that news, but he hurried out into the twilight and through the streets towards the bridge on the eastern side of Cheyenne. There were indeed two wagons, one larger than the other, slowly making their way towards the city.

John squinted. Sure enough, he saw the banner of the Asgard flying over the smaller of the wagons. He had not known that any of the priests had remained in Caldora. John had departed the battle camp in haste, and during the king's brief visit to Cheyenne, they had not had time to discuss the matter.

The other, larger wagon did not resemble the Asgard design, and John felt his heart racing. If there was any mercy in the world, that wagon carried supplies from Redwater. Gairwyn had caught up to him by then and she clearly thought the same thing, for she muttered aside to him, "It is about time Henry remembered us."

The wagons came to a halt on the grassy bank as John and his group crossed the bridge. The two Asgard driving the first wagon climbed down. John recognized Master Hermiod and he smiled a little as Janet and Gairwyn gasped in recognition.

Hermiod bowed. "Greetings, Lord John. The Asgard have come to lend their assistance to the people of Sheppard in the wake of this great tragedy."

"I thank you, Master Hermiod. You are most welcome. May I present Lady Gairwyn, the Countess of Cimmeria?"

Hermiod blinked several times, which was the closest the Asgard seemed to come to surprise. Then he and the other priest bowed deeply. "My lady, it is indeed an honor to meet the heir to the throne of Cimmeria."

Gairwyn's face practically radiated joy and she actually curtsied to the priests. "No, Master Hermiod, it is my honor. My father and grandmother told me the stories of our history, when many of the Asgard called Cimmeria home and people came from all corners of the lands to seek their counsel at the temple. It is a great day for me to witness the return of the Asgard after so many years."

"I thank you for your kind welcome, Countess."

John gestured to the other three people standing beside him. "I believe you met my cousin's squire, Master Nicholas. This is Mistress Janet, a midwife and the healer who has attended my family for many years, and her daughter Cassandra." Hermiod and the other priest bowed and John looked at Janet. "Master Hermiod is most learned in medicine and the arts of healing. He trained Doctor Beckett, the Queen of Atalan's physician."

"It is always an honor to meet a fellow healer. I would be most pleased to discuss the methods of Caldora with Mistress Janet," Hermiod said with the calm politeness of the Asgard.

For her part, Janet gaped and managed to curtsy and stammer out a reply. John grinned. He had not seen his old friend so flustered before.

Hermiod turned towards the wagon. "We have brought some medical supplies, my lord, as well as the remaining grain from the Caldoran war camp. The lords have broken the army and departed for their homes, and the princess determined the remainder ought to be sent on to Cheyenne rather than divided among them."

John sent up a silent apology to Princess Carolyn for questioning her judgment, even if it had been only within his own mind. He doubted much had been left in the aftermath of the army's encampment, but every resource was precious right now.

The driver of the second wagon approached, drawing his attention away. "Master Hermiod, is this second wagon not yours?"

"No, Lord John. We were joined on the road to Cheyenne by it yesterday."

John frowned. The young driver was dressed simply but well, and his clothes did not bear the symbol of the king. He waited expectantly as the man bowed. "My lord? I bring a message from the Duke of Icaria."

It took John a moment to recover from his shock and reach out and take the scroll being offered to him. Disbelieving, he broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.

_"My lord marquis –_

_On our journey home I encountered a relief wagon bound for the war camp from Icaria. I have taken the liberty of redirecting the wagon and its supplies to Cheyenne, understanding that the people there will have more need of these supplies than my own at this time._

_Good luck, and may the ancestors be merciful._

_\- Stephen, Duke of Icaria."_

John tore his eyes from the letter and looked at the nervous driver. "What are the contents you bring, young master?"

"We were bound for the army encampment, my lord. We have some barrels of salted meat, and sacks of rice."

John couldn't quite believe it until he circled the wagon and saw with his own eyes the wooden barrels and the rough bushels of grain lying under the tarp. Icaria was famous for the rice fields that lined one of the deep river valleys not far from the southern border with Kelowna. Where Sheppard and much of the rest of the country relied on supplies of wheat, Icaria was able to feed itself on the exotic white grain of the rice fields. John had never seen the terraced valleys where the plants were grown, but he had heard of them often, spoken of as one of the greatest wonders of Caldora.

Gairwyn and Nicholas were beaming at him while Janet and Cassie hugged each other. John felt as if an unbearable weight had lifted from his chest. The supplies from Icaria would fend off the risk of starvation for the moment, and the Asgard might be able to extend their supplies or aid in finding other ways to feed and shelter the people. And more assistance might even arrive from Redwater.

John closed his eyes briefly. He would not have to send his people from Cheyenne in defeat. It was almost too much relief to bear.

He then quickly began giving orders to allow the supply wagon into the city under heavy guard and prepare to distribute rice and meat to the people. The Asgard, as was their wont, chose to settle themselves outside the city proper, but were invited to meet with John, Gairwyn and Elrad before they retired for the night.

Cheyenne was bursting with noise as the news spread. John followed the wagon towards the keep, where it could be protected. He walked through the celebrating crowds and reflected that it was becoming more and more difficult for him to dislike Stephen Caldwell as much as he wished to.

*~*~*~*

Although it was somewhat late in the evening, Lord John ordered that the food which had come from Icaria be distributed to the people immediately. The supplies would be carefully rationed, of course, but compared to their usual fare this past week, it was a bountiful feast. Everyone in Cheyenne would sleep with a full belly that night.

Nicholas assisted the marquis as the food was handed out. Lord John, Lady Gairwyn and the Asgard had consulted together on the proper amounts, and the progress was swift. The rice was cooked and doled out along with a strip of salted pork for every person. When at last the lines dwindled, Nicholas took his own plate to the fire that burned in the manor's front courtyard. He sat down next to Cassie, who was struggling to tear off a piece of her meat. They had not eaten anything so substantial in days and the drying process made it difficult to chew on the best day.

Cassie saw him grinning and paused, the pork clamped between her teeth, and glared at him. Despite the fact that she was not Mistress Janet's blood kin, her angry expressions were the image of her adopted mother.

He settled himself on the bench, took a spoon full of the soft, wet rice and then took a small bite of his meat. He looked around the fire and observed quietly to Cassie, "If there was a drop of liquor remaining in Cheyenne tonight, I imagine it would be passed around right now."

She nodded. "Unfortunately, we all must make do with water from the well."

"Miss Cassie, did you say you needed more water?"

They turned to see a boy wearing the uniform of the militia standing solicitously near Cassie. Nicholas recognized him as Gilbert, one of the youngsters Lord John had ordered to remain behind in Madrona. He had only just reached fourteen years of age, and Lord John had charged the younger boys to fill in the places of the men who'd gone to war. Gilbert and one of his fellows had come to Cheyenne with Cassie and her mother, because the governor of Madrona had not wanted two women riding about the countryside unprotected.

"No, thank you, Master Gilbert, I am well supplied."

The boy seemed to take this as permission to sit down next to Cassie. "It is a shame we have no wine to go with our celebrations tonight," he said to her.

Nicholas nearly snorted with laughter. This youth was barely old enough to handle a mouthful of spirits without getting tipsy.

Cassie shot him a look of warning while she agreed with Gilbert. Nicholas rolled his eyes. He'd known Cassie for years, ever since he first came into Lord Cameron's service. Mistress Janet tended to adopt everyone she met, like an earnest mother hen, and it had not been long after being chosen as the lord's squire that Nicholas found himself being nagged and mothered as much as his master was. Cassie was only one or two years younger than himself, and he sometimes felt as though he'd acquired the younger sibling he'd never had, and had not really ever wanted.

At least Valencia was not also here. She and Cassie together were exceptionally skilled at driving Nicholas out of his wits.

Gilbert was still waxing rhapsodic about wine. Nicholas nudged Cassie with an elbow. "How fare Valencia and her brother? I have not had time to ask you or your mother until tonight."

Cassie smiled. "They were well enough, when we left. Ramus has taken quite a fancy to the army. He and his friends were practicing to be soldiers like the militia almost daily."

Gilbert laughed derisively. "They were the boys who would pretend to march through the square at all hours of the day? They were greatly devoted to their play. Eager, if not much skilled at it."

Nicholas gazed absently at the fire as Gilbert spoke. Something about the little boy he'd known for years playing at war didn't sit well with him, not after the things he'd seen in the past months.

Cassie continued, "Valencia was disappointed she could not come with us, but Mother insisted she needed to stay and look after Ramus and our patients in Madrona." Cassie sighed and shifted slightly closer to him, lowering her voice so that Gilbert, who was distracted by another conversation going on nearby, would not hear her. "I do not know if Mother intends to remain here, though I imagine she will go wherever the marquis does now. If we stay, I fear it might be a long while before I see Valencia or Ramus again. They have not the means to come here on their own, and no skills to contribute to the rebuilding."

Nicholas patted her knee. "It may be some months, but we will find a way to bring them here. You're right, they would only be in the way at the moment, but in time, if things go well, I'm sure your mother would welcome them. I do not doubt that Lord Cameron would find a place for them, as he is very fond of them himself. He was reminiscing about Valencia the other day. You remember how we heard of the invasion, when all of us were playing outside the village?"

Cassie stiffened slightly at the mention of Lord Cameron. "I remember," she said quietly.

Nicholas turned his attention back to his food. For some reason, he was uncomfortable at her reaction, though he could not explain precisely why.

"You were playing, Miss Cassie?" Gilbert asked, eagerly reinserting himself in the conversation.

"We were playing scald with some of the children on the day news of the Goa'uld invasion arrived."

"Ah," Gilbert said, clearly recognizing that something was amiss in Cassie's tone. "Well, they are gone now, ain't they? I'm glad the worst of this mess is behind us."

Nicholas raised his eyebrows. "We are mere steps away from hundreds of homes that have been burnt to the ground, with no method for rebuilding them, and no resources to accomplish it, and you feel we are beyond the worst of it, young master?"

Gilbert stammered slightly. "Well, the Goa'uld are gone! The war's over, ain't it? We don't have to be scared of being killed in our beds."

"They didn't want us dead. They wanted to use us as slaves," Nicholas said coldly.

Gilbert waved a hand defensively. "Right, see? We don't have to worry about that anymore. Anything's better than groveling before some stinking snake, ain't it? Anyway, we got food now, and the king'll send more, and we'll be all right."

Cassie looked torn between amusement and distaste. Nicholas' temper began to simmer. It was too much to listen silently to an ill-educated child speaking with such presumption about things he did not understand in the slightest. "So you would have us live on the charity of the rest of the country? For how long? And what do you know of the disposition of supplies in the rest of Caldora? Do you not realize the entire nation was at war? There is little to spare all over. We can't merely sit about and demand the rest of the country feed us with a surplus that doesn't exist."

Gilbert looked ready to continue the argument, but Cassie stood up, effectively ending the conversation. "Master Nicholas, I find I need more water after all."

He got up and took the arm Cassie was clearly going to insist he support, as though she could not manage the few steps across the yard to the well on her own. Underneath his annoyance, he felt a tiny flicker of triumph at the sullen expression on Gilbert's face as they walked away.

They reached the well and he drew the bucket up for her. Cassie was fighting off a smile and looking at him knowingly. Finally he shoved the dipper of water at her and muttered, "You think he is a fool, too. I know you do."

She smiled at him. "Indeed, but I remember a time when you would merely have screwed up your mouth in distaste and ignored him, or let someone else deal with silencing him. I wonder if riding off to war has changed you more than I'd realized," she said saucily.

His ears grew hot at her teasing. It was true. Once upon a time he would've merely scowled and held his peace, but he wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good or bad thing. He'd seen enough through serving Lord Cameron and now Lord John to know that words could be as dangerous to a man as swords in some cases.

Though, at the same time, he felt almost proud at the approval in her eyes.

Nicholas was suddenly very confused.

It was just as well that Janet called for them both. Lord John was nearly asleep sitting up and it took the three of them to maneuver him into the house and to his bed before he would be left to sleep in whatever place he fell.

*~*~*~*

Everyone rose a little late the next morning. The sun was actually up when Janet shook John awake, but it was a relief to have gotten a little extra rest.

He had invited Gairwyn and Elrad to a conference with the Asgard that morning, and as they sat down around the table in his father's old study, John laid out his concerns. "We have two problems at the moment, which are separate but interrelated. The first is that the food stores which normally would be sustaining us through the summer until harvest are gone. This is not a problem only of Cheyenne or Sheppard. The whole of Caldora is facing shortages. We need somehow to find a way to feed the people between now and the beginnings of the harvest, which is still several weeks away."

"The harvest will also be diminished due to the invasion," Gairwyn put in.

John nodded. "That is our second problem. We were able to plant crops but not as much as usual, and from what I understand, the yields have not been great these past several years to begin with. So the harvest would have run short of our needs even if we were not going to have to begin consuming it straightaway."

"What of the rebuilding of the city?" Elrad asked anxiously. John knew why the governor was bringing it up, but he had not had time to explain Lord Malchus' proposal to Gairwyn yet.

"If we cannot feed the people of Cheyenne there may not be much point in fretting over rebuilding houses for those who will not stay," John replied. "Our first priority is to secure enough food to last us through the summer, and then through the winter."

"What of the herds?" Gairwyn asked. "Could we not reserve a greater portion than we usually use for trade to serve as food for the winter?"

"We will, but I have not had time since I returned to speak to the herd masters about the state of the flocks. And I doubt we can make up the disparity that way alone."

Everyone turned to the two priests sitting at the table, who had been listening in silence thus far. Hermiod rose and gestured for the other man to bring a tray over to the main table. "I fear there is little we can do to aid Cheyenne between now and the fall. I know of no place with a ready surplus of food close enough to be reached in time, even if Sheppard had a means to trade or pay for such a thing. But we may be able to aid with the yields for the fall harvest."

The linen was removed from the tray to reveal a number of small lumps sprouting in a curious fashion. Tiny green and white branches poked out of the brown flesh at odd angles. As everyone leaned closer to examine the plants, Hermiod looked to him. "Lord John, do you recognize these plants?"

John paused. The sprouts had confused him, but now that he looked more carefully, he remembered where he'd seen such things before: in the storehouses in Atlantis. "Yes, these are... I believe they are called potatoes? They were a common dish in Atalan."

"Indeed," Hermiod said. "We learned of them from the Jaffa many years ago. A most hardy plant, able to grow in various soils. Their best benefit, though, is that they can be stored easily for many months."

Gairwyn looked at John curiously. "How are they eaten?"

"They were often put into soups and stews, or boiled and served with meat and other vegetables." He made a face. "They are rather bland eaten alone without spices, to be honest."

That made Gairwyn and Eldrad smile. The Asgard merely blinked. "Aside from their flavor, they are beneficial for health and easy to prepare. More importantly, they can be grown fairly quickly."

"How long does it take to raise a crop to harvest?"

Hermiod gestured to the sprouting potatoes. "Properly started thus, and tended correctly, they can yield very small fruits within six to eight weeks."

A long silence followed this pronouncement as everyone gaped, John included. "Six weeks?" If they began planting that very day or the next, six weeks would still be before the fall harvest had well and truly begun. It would greatly lessen the amount of time they had to fill before the fall crops could be brought in.

"The yield after such a short time will be extremely small. The fruits would be the size of small pebbles at best. The longer the plants remain in the soil, the larger the fruits will grow."

Gairwyn sat back in her chair. "But if we staggered the harvesting...?"

John looked at her. "If we designated part of the field to be taken up in two months, with other parts left for later harvest, then we could both use this new plant as soon as possible and keep some to supplement the winter stores."

Hermiod nodded. "That would be my recommendation, my lord. It might also be possible to prepare more of the potatoes for sprouting and further planting. At what point in the year does the first frost usually arrive?"

Elrad answered, "Somewhere from the end of October to the middle of November, Master Hermiod."

The priest looked at his companion, who had been silent for the whole meeting so far. The other Asgard spoke. "It might be possible to plant three small potato crops, one now, one in August and one in September, and harvest all of them before the frost arrives."

"The frost will kill the plants?"

"Yes, and the cold ground can damage the fruits, especially during harvesting."

There was some further discussion, but then all eyes fell on John. For once, he did not feel the uncomfortable weight of his position, because for the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope. It was not the solution to all their problems, but at the least it gave them something to _do_.

*~*~*~*

The noon meal was back to the thin stew Cheyenne had been living on for some days. Even Gairwyn found herself thinking longingly of the sacks of rice now under heavy guard in the old stone keep. Still, the complaints were muted during the noon hour, and as it ended, a large group of men, women and children gathered near the western bridge. They carried hoes, shovels, any long tool that could be found that could be used for digging in the earth.

Under the direction of the Asgard, the group was split into two and they proceeded towards fields that were either fallow or had been laid to waste already. The ground would be prepared to receive the new plants as quickly as possible.

A large group had gathered around Lord John during the meal, including Mistress Janet, while Lord John reported on the plan to plant the new fruits in the hopes of supplementing their harvests. Cassandra had asked the marquis about the new food. "Have you tasted them, my lord?"

"Yes, they were quite often served while I was in Atalan."

That had sent up a round of murmuring. It was no secret that Lord John had been in the northern country when his exile had ended, and even now he carried a sword that bore the crest of a foreign queen. But while most of the small crowd seemed awed, one grizzled older fellow raised his eyebrows in distaste. "This new food comes from Atalan?"

There was contempt in his voice, the fruit of old prejudices. Then the marquis flashed a look so dark it caused a momentary silence, though all he said was, "Yes, it does."

Gairwyn watched the two groups of workers march into the afternoon heat, tools over their shoulders. People were talking with more animation than she had seen since before the Goa'uld had invaded. While these exotic potatoes might not be enough to stave off hunger all winter, Gairwyn thought that perhaps the chief benefit at the moment was giving the people a sense of purpose again. Instead of waiting for a miracle to fall from the skies, now they could take some small measure of control of their lives into their own hands again.

It was quite a dramatic change from just one day before. Even Lord John, other than the little confrontation at luncheon, seemed positively buoyant by comparison to the somber man who'd met her at the gate yesterday. He was consulting hurriedly with the lord mayor about fields and workers. Gairwyn thought for a moment of asking him about the rebuilding. If their food problem was on its way to being solved, that would be the next task. And she had gotten a fleeting sense that something was not right earlier when Lord Elrad had brought it up.

However, John's attention was called away and she decided to let that question rest for now. It would keep for another day, and she didn't wish to quell his spirits after such a prolonged period of anxiety.

John turned from his squire and waved to her urgently. Gairwyn joined him as he headed again for the eastern bridge. "Two wagons and six riders are approaching on the same road. One of the watchmen says it is the king."

Gairwyn shot him a look. "Better late than never?"

John grinned and they hastened towards the approaching wagons. As the riders closed the distance, Gairwyn frowned. The men certainly did bear the royal insignia, but the figure they were grouped around was both too slender and too young to be King Henry.

Had Princess Carolyn arrived twenty-four hours earlier, her appearance would have been cause for enormous celebration. Today, it was less of a grand event, though the supplies she brought were no less valued or needed.

Gairwyn observed Lord John move forward to meet the princess and help her down from her horse. She'd met the princess only once or twice before; her position did not require much time at court and she'd never cared for the intrigues of the nobles in her country much. Carolyn had grown into a handsome young woman, with a hint of her mother's exotic looks.

As Gairwyn watched, she detected a flush of pleasure in the lady's face at Lord John's effusive greeting. At first she thought perhaps it was just the heat of the summer afternoon and the long ride. The princess was introduced to various people, and then John offered to personally escort her to a private room in the manor so she could refresh herself.

The blush on the young lady's cheeks was unmistakable then, and as Gairwyn watched them proceed into the city, she caught Janet's eye and knew she was not the only one to have noticed this curiosity.

*~*~*~*

The situation in Cheyenne was not as bad as Carolyn had anticipated from the reports she'd heard. Or at least she did not find Lord John in quite the state she had expected. He explained excitedly of the Asgard arriving the previous day, as well as the food that had been sent from Icaria. In her heart, she was a tiny bit miffed that her arrival had been overshadowed by those two events. She had spent the last few days in Redwater gathering supplies with the conviction that little more than herself might be standing between Cheyenne and oblivion, only to arrive and discover her grand rescue had been stolen out from under her.

Of course, at the same time, she was well aware that the food she had brought had not been nearly enough to sustain the entire city for long. The people of Cheyenne needed all the help they could get.

John told her of the events of the last day as they walked, speaking with more animation than she remembered seeing in him in some time. When they finally reached a private room, though, he followed her inside and closed the door before turning to her expectantly.

She could hardly doubt what he was thinking, and she did not delay in sharing her news. "My last communication with my father indicated he expected to return to Redwater in three days' time. Cheyenne being nearer, I believe we may hope to see Lord Cameron reach Cheyenne tomorrow or the day after."

John stared at her for a moment and then abruptly turned and moved to the small window and leaned heavily against the wall. Carolyn paused, disconcerted. His expression before he turned away had been something like shock and almost grief, and she did not understand it.

The silence stretched and she could hear John draw in a heavy breath before scrubbing a hand over his face. At length she spoke lowly, "My lord?"

"Forgive me, your Highness." John's voice was rough and also low. "It has been an eventful two days."

Carolyn joined him near the window, but she did not look at the view. "It has been an eventful few months," she corrected with a small smile, which he returned.

"Years." He looked out the window at the city. When he spoke, she nearly had to hold her breath in order to hear his quiet words. "This time yesterday I was all but convinced I would have to send my own people from our capital. I could not feed them or shelter them, and I did not know where to send them, nor to whom I could possibly appeal to for help."

The pain in his voice struck Carolyn almost as if it was a blow to her own self. Not thinking, she reached out and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

John glanced at her, seeming to recover himself somewhat. "Now, thanks to your Highness and the Asgard, we may be able to weather the storm."

"My lord, you know my father will not leave Cheyenne to fall into ruin. He will return within days and I know that he will make the rebuilding of this city a priority."

"I know. It was this... trip of his that complicated matters," John said wistfully.

It was not until that moment that Carolyn had really grasped what it must have been like for him these last several days. It had been difficult keeping her father's whereabouts concealed from the court, but she had the help of two of her father's advisors to accomplish it. John had been here alone, fighting to salvage his own capital, all the while unable to explain why the king was not sending aid. It must have been maddening.

John seemed to shake himself and he turned, Carolyn's hand falling once more to her side. "Even with the king's help, winter will be difficult. But I imagine that will be true for the whole country."

"Unfortunately, I believe you are correct. But we were able to draw ourselves together to face an entire army of the Goa'uld," she said.

John raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly again. "And the lesson in that, your Highness?"

"That we are stronger together than we are apart," she said simply.


	3. From The Ashes Of Our Fathers (3/4)

Cassie was quite surprised when the princess sat with her mother and Lady Gairwyn that evening. It was a little embarrassing to see the next queen of Caldora sitting on a bench in the courtyard, eating the same poor rations as the rest of them, when she was probably used to lavish feasts with many courses. Cassie knew, logically, that they had not one grain of rice to spare even for the princess, but it made her feel awkward.

She sat quietly at her mother's side as the older women talked through the meal. Lord John had been seated next to the princess early on in the evening, but he was wanted by some of Cheyenne's merchants and moved to the far side of the fire, leaving the women to shift the topic to one they could not discuss in his presence.

"Lord John looks better than I had expected to find him," the princess observed.

"You probably would not have thought so had you arrived a day or two earlier, Highness," Lady Gairwyn said while Cassie's mother nodded.

"Indeed, he said as much. I imagine you have known him for quite some time, Countess."

Mother smiled. "Were you there the day Lord John was born?" she asked Lady Gairwyn, who laughed.

"No, but I remember when the news reached us that Lady Isabelle had borne yet _another_ boy. My mother felt rather sorry for her. I remember Lady Isabelle would come visit us for an afternoon now and then when I was young, sitting with my mother and my sister and I while we sewed. She always said she needed to escape to someplace where there were other women she could talk to."

Princess Carolyn smiled as well. "It cannot have been easy, having a husband and six sons to contend with."

Lady Gairwyn leaned forward, speaking more quietly. "I can tell you for a fact it was not. I remember Lady Isabelle appearing at our house one day, unannounced. She actually arrived with a trunk, intending to stay for several days. I learned later she and Lord Geoffrey had quarreled – one of those silly arguments that all married couples endure now and then. She had left in a fit of pique and refused to return until her husband apologized to her. She was with us for two days when a note arrived from Lord Geoffrey."

"What did it say?" the princess asked eagerly.

Lady Gairwyn grinned. _"'Your sons are having a wonderful time. Please come home before they drive me to an early grave.'"_

All four of the women shrieked in laughter, causing most of the men in the room, including Lord John and Nicholas, to look their way nervously.

Mother put an arm around Cassie. "I always suspected one of the reasons I found myself in Lady Isabelle's favor was simply that she was in need of some kind of female companionship to keep from running mad."

Cassie felt a tug in her heart, as she always did when she thought of Lady Isabelle. To Cassie, the marchioness had been almost like a fairy godmother. It had been thanks to Lady Isabelle that Cassie had trained with several tutors and that she and her mother had been able to live in a nice house with clean clothes and food to eat all these years. She knew now that during her childhood Lady Isabelle had been suffering the absence – and loss – of her own children. Mothering Cassie had been a form of comfort, and Cassie had grieved deeply over Lady Isabelle’s sudden death. She was too young to remember Lord John's brothers, and so Lady Isabelle had been the first person in her small world that she had known who had died. The ache had yet to fade.

The others were speaking of the Sheppard family. The princess turned to Lady Gairwyn, looking curious. "My lady, what were Lord John's brothers like?"

It was obvious in a moment that something was wrong. Lady Gairwyn paled and looked away and Cassie felt her mother tense. Princess Carolyn sensed it immediately. "My apologies, my lady. Have I said something amiss?”

Mother put a comforting hand on Lady Gairwyn's arm, but the countess shook her head. "No, your Highness. You are too young to remember... you would have no way of knowing why such a question might affect me so." She drew in a deep breath. "Before the Ori came, I was betrothed to Lord John's second oldest brother, Andrew."

Cassie blinked in surprise. She had not known that detail either.

The princess looked saddened. "Forgive me. I did not mean to cause you any pain."

"It is not your fault, my lady. It is a very old wound, and normally it does not grieve me so much. It was many years ago, and I married another man and bore two children. It is just..." She stared across the room and the others followed her gaze to Lord John, who was deep in conversation and oblivious to their stares. "John reminds me of Andrew in many ways."

"Lady Isabelle often remarked they both had her eyes," Mother put in. "And of course, the ears."

Lady Gairwyn chuckled lightly. "All but the oldest had those ears, and they all had Lord Geoffrey's wild hair."

Princess Carolyn grinned. "Lord Cameron did not escape that family trait either."

Cassie's face flushed in spite of herself. She hoped fervently that her mother would not notice.

Lady Gairwyn had turned thoughtful. "I think it is less the physical resemblance than other things. When Andrew was courting me, John was still a boy. Now, in the aftermath of the Ori war, of his exile and now the Goa'uld, he has become a man who recalls Andrew to my mind." Cassie leaned against her mother's side and listened as Lady Gairwyn reminisced about her lost love. "Andrew was always the slowest to anger of the boys."

"Which, as I understand it, is not saying much," Mother put in, rather impudently, but the other women smiled.

"Well, that much is true. They all had their father's temper, but Andrew was more careful in when he showed it. He was smarter than any of them, but also fiercely loyal to his brothers and his parents."

Princess Carolyn smiled. "When I reached the war camp after the battle with the Goa'uld, my father told me that the two lords of Sheppard were loyal to one another above all other things. King and country would have to suffice in second place."

"That sounds accurate," Mother observed.

Lady Gairwyn sighed. "At any rate, I thought my grief for Andrew had been laid to rest, but it has been stirred up again watching Lord John struggle these last several days to keep Cheyenne alive."

The conversation drifted to other things. Lord John joined them briefly to ask for Lady Gairwyn's counsel on some matter, and eventually people began to retire for the night. As they were preparing for sleep, Cassie asked, "Mother, do you know why Lady Gairwyn and Lord Andrew did not marry before he left to fight for the Ori? Were they too young? Did their families not approve of the match?"

Mother paused. "I do not think it was a matter of age, or blessings. Lord Geoffrey and Lady Isabelle were very pleased with the match, as I recall. I think it was that Lord Andrew did not want to leave Lady Gairwyn a widow, obliged to mourn him." She sighed, her expression melancholy. "He fully intended to return to her, but fate got in the way."

They climbed into bed and Mother blew out the candle. Cassie lay awake for some time after her mother had dozed off.

While they had been in Madrona, Cassie and Valencia had become friendly with some of the girls who lived in the town. They hadn't exactly been _friends_ , though. The town girls turned up their noses at Valencia, and Cassie knew they only spoke to her because her mother was a particular friend to the marquis. Still, she couldn't help eagerly listening to what those girls had said about a number of subjects which had never really entered her head before.

For one thing, all of those girls had had at least one suitor already, even though most of them were the same age as her. They had been horrified that Cassie hadn't entertained at least one proposal yet, and they pressed her about which boys she might consider worthy to be potential beaus. It had been slightly silly, but it left her wondering about the future.

She loved her mother and she enjoyed their work, but what if she couldn't find a prospective husband because of it? The girls had hinted as much. Even though Cassie could cook and sew well enough, and she and her mother could earn their keep anywhere they had to, those town girls had made it all seem a bit tomboyish and unattractive. Such words were silly, because her mother had been married and even now Cassie knew some men's eyes turned her mother's way, even though Mother had no interest in marrying again.

It was all strange and confusing. Valencia had said it was all foolish nonsense, although at the same time, Cassie knew some of the comments being aimed towards her friend had been hurtful.

The only way Cassie and Valencia had discovered to get the girls to stop teasing them was to tell them details about Lord Cameron. It sometimes seemed half the young women in Madrona would swoon at the mere mention of his name (with most of the rest just as enamored of Lord John). To be fair, he was most handsome, and kind, and funny and not at all arrogant or conceited. He certainly had had little competition from the boys in Madrona, at least in Cassie and Valencia's eyes.

Cassie also knew some day her mother would grow too old to work anymore, and would need to be taken care of. Cassie needed to keep that in mind for the future, as well as her own security.

She finally drifted to sleep thinking of Lady Gairwyn and Lord Andrew's sad affair, imagining a more pleasant ending where Lord Andrew narrowly escaped the perils of war to return to his lady and they were married the very next day and lived happily ever after. In her dreams, the younger version of Lady Gairwyn looked a great deal like herself, but strangely, Lord Andrew most resembled not Lord Cameron, but Nicholas, a fact which Cassie conveniently forgot as soon as she woke the next morning.

*~*~*~*

John had been somewhat relieved when he was called away from the three women while eating supper. Gairwyn and Janet had been teasing him and watching him like hawks for some reason, all at the same time. And John felt slightly awkward around the princess after their conversation following her arrival.

Her news about Cameron's return had him on edge. He couldn't keep back the hope that his cousin would return on the morrow. Though he'd been adrift without any of his kin for years, in the last few months he'd become accustomed to having Cameron nearby. Struggling alone in Cheyenne for so many days had been made even more difficult by Cameron's absence. The burden of restoring the province was too much work for one man. Someone needed to go to Madrona, to speak to the herd masters in the northern hills, and someone had to remain in Cheyenne for the time being. John could not be in two places at once, and he needed his cousin's help.

Moreover, in his secret heart, John hoped that Cameron might return bearing a message from Elizabeth for him.

As soon as John had laid eyes on what the Goa'uld had done to Cheyenne, he'd known he could not leave. Regardless of his personal desires, or even what benefit his presence would be to the king during the summit, the marquis needed to remain in the capital. The argument with Cameron had been heated but brief, and when it ended, John had been granted only a few minutes to compose a letter to Elizabeth explaining his absence. He had no clear memory of what he'd written; it had not been eloquent, he was certain, and he suspected it had barely been coherent. At the time it was written he had not slept in over two days and had not eaten anything for hours on end, but he couldn't send Cameron off to meet the Queen of Atalan, to whom John still owed his fealty, without any word.

He prayed that Elizabeth would understand his absence. She prized duty and loyalty so highly, surely she would forgive him for staying away from such a chance to see her again, once she knew the circumstances.

Since Cameron's departure, John had tried not to think much about Elizabeth or any word she might send to him. It was dangerous to hope, and he could ill-afford distractions. That had been easier to do when he was consumed with the survival of the city, and when he had no clear idea of when to expect his cousin to return.

The merchants who had asked for him gave him plenty to concern himself with. Apparently dissatisfied with the delay, Malchus was spreading rumors regarding his plan to redraw the streets in Cheyenne for the rebuilding. John listened to several frantic landowners and soothed tempers as best he could while working to contain his own anger. Something had to be done about this.

His first task was to explain the situation to Gairwyn. She knew the men in Cheyenne better than he did, and if rumors were spreading, she would hear of them soon.

The two of them retired back to his father's old study and he told her of Malchus' new map of Cheyenne. "Lord Elrad has compared it to the old maps and had one of his advisors check both against the records of land claims in the peninsula. The new map would put Malchus and a few of his most trusted allies into a very pretty position and would undercut no less than a dozen other men who would find their parcels isolated or unusable."

"We cannot condone Malchus stealing the property of others for his own benefit," Gairwyn protested. John held up a hand.

"He is not stealing in the most direct sense. Elrad's aide said the amount of land owned by each man would not change substantially. Only the roads and access will be materially altered, but in such a way as to confer advantages only to certain locations. Malchus is too clever to be so naked in his ambitions."

Gairwyn frowned. "How would he have generated such a scheme in the midst of this mess?" She looked at him sharply and answered her own question. "Unless this was a plan he has been holding close for some time."

"That was my thought as well. He may have had the notion when the old governor died, when he expected my father to grant him the title." John sent up silent thanks to his father for his perception and foresight in keeping Malchus' greedy hands off the rule of Cheyenne.

She turned back to the more immediate problem. "We cannot let him get away with this."

"No," he agreed. "But at the same time, I must admit the new map presented several advantages over the old way. The roads were arranged in an orderly fashion, there were allowances for waste to run away from the streets, and the space on the peninsula seemed to be used more efficiently."

She looked surprised. "You want to go ahead with redrawing the streets anyway."

John rubbed his face with his hands. "I'd like to come up with my own map and release it and simply order it implemented under my authority regardless of who it helps or hurts. Not to mention knock the smug smirk from Malchus' face with my own fist."

Gairwyn's lips twitched in a smile. "I am surprised that you are holding yourself back."

John sighed. "I do not think that would be prudent, or wise, no matter how satisfying it might be, for a number of people." He had been debating within himself for the last two days how to get a new layout for Cheyenne without giving in to Malchus entirely, and without alienating the man completely. Like it or not, and he decidedly didn't, John couldn't afford Malchus making trouble for him right now. "But it has occurred to me there might be someone else who could put forth a different proposal without causing such damage."

Her face lit up in understanding. "The Asgard."

He nodded. "A plan to rebuild Cheyenne drawn up personally by an Asgard priest? Even Malchus could not oppose such a thing. And I dare say we could learn a thing or two from them."

"Are you sure we would not be imposing too much upon the Asgard, asking such a thing of them? They already have brought us supplies and they may very well be saving a number of lives with these potatoes they have brought."

John thought of everything he'd learned about the Asgard, both in Atalan and since Master Thor had arrived in Caldora. "The Asgard accumulate their knowledge in the hopes of improving life for everyone. They are selective who they share this knowledge with, but they would not be here if they were not willing to help us in whatever way possible. Drawing a map is hardly giving away their greatest secrets."

They spoke of how to approach the priests, who were rather busy with the potato crop, John knew. After a few moments, Gairwyn paused. "It should come from me."

"What?"

"The request to the Asgard regarding the map. It should come from me, and I should take it to Elrad and the others." Unless he was mistaken, John saw a gleam in her eye. "You are right that the less you are involved in something that will undercut Malchus' ambitions the better. Given the historic association between the Asgard and Cimmeria, for the countess to make such a request and then propose it for the city would only be natural. Such an opportunity to rekindle our old alliance with the Asgard would be most appropriate coming from the heir to the throne of Cimmeria."

She said the last in a falsely pompous voice that made John grin. "Indeed, my lady, I do not argue the point. In fact, if you made me the right offer, I believe Cimmeria might find itself free and independent once more."

Gairwyn made a face. "I am content to be a ruler in name only most of the time, my lord marquis, but thank you." She stood up, preparing to depart, then hesitated. "I hope you will not take this amiss, John, but... I am proud of you."

His cheeks flamed hot and he looked away, unable to think of anything to say in response. Gairwyn put a hand on his shoulder. "You have done well these last few weeks, under the most trying conditions. I know your father would have been proud as well."

Trying not to fidget like a little boy, he shrugged. "Father would probably have needled me about not shutting Malchus and his plots down days ago."

Gairwyn chuckled at that. "Geoffrey could get away with being a curmudgeon at his age. His son must be more politic in his efforts, though I admit, I am surprised at your delicate handling of this situation."

John thought of Elizabeth for a moment. He'd watched her maneuver her court in this fashion countless times, on matters both small and much greater, using her knowledge and influence to construct the outcome she wanted, rather than demanding it. He had not consciously been imitating her, but perhaps he had learned more than he'd realized. Aloud, he only said with a smile, "I think I am merely too tired to fight another war, and this one over where a gutter should be."

*~*~*~*

In the weeks prior to Lord Geoffrey's death, from the day they knew Lord John was returning, Janet and the others close to the marquis had felt the palpable sense of expectation that rose with every day. All of them had kept an ear open for the bells warning of an approaching rider, and each alarm had only heightened the tension as more refugees arrived and the days dragged past.  
She still remembered the breathless excitement she had felt when the sentry bell had tolled, and a guard had come racing to the governor's house to tell Lord Cameron that a single rider had been spotted on the road, coming from the north, where the border with Atalan lay. Cameron had torn out of the house at a dead run, intent on meeting his cousin as swiftly as possible. He had been the first person to greet John when he arrived in Madrona. Janet had witnessed them approaching the governor's house together, speaking rapidly, and she had watched from the hallway as John entered the house with eyes only for the top of the stairs and the room where his father waited.

The morning after Princess Carolyn’s arrival, John told her and Cassie that Cameron would be returning soon, and now Janet felt a rather more pleasant sense of anticipation.

Cassie, she noted, was even more excited and had re-braided her hair at least twice since morning. Her suspicions about her daughter's attachment to the handsome lord of Sheppard grew stronger, but she was unsure how to broach the subject without provoking an outburst.

The afternoon was hazy and warm, and Janet was deep in thought in the kitchen of the manor house when she heard the clattering of feet in the doorway. One of the boys from the guard dashed inside, "Mistress, where is Lord John? A man is riding up to the gate and the watchman said he is wearing the crest of Sheppard on his tunic!"

John was laboring in the fields alongside his people to prepare the ground for planting. Janet sent the boy in the correct direction and hurried towards the gate herself. Truth be told, she'd been growing more and more suspicious of Cameron's absence as the days passed. Of course if the king truly needed him, the young man should serve, but what could the king possibly require that outweighed the needs of the people of Sheppard? Cameron had, after all, been the heir to the title for several years before the invasion. Even recovering from injuries, John could have used the support.

Such questions did not begin to address the ones raised by Princess Carolyn appearing with the relief supplies _alone_. Why in the world had Cameron not come with her to the city? Where precisely was the king, if the princess had been the one to organize the supplies she had brought, as she had told them the previous night?

She put aside her questions as Cassie joined her and they arrived at the gate. Janet shielded her eyes against the sun and could not restrain a relieved smile.

Cameron slowed his horse from a gallop only when he reached the bridge. He smiled as soon as he saw her and Cassie and halted the horse, swinging down easily. She curtsied to him, properly, before Cameron swept her into a hug. She returned the embrace, feeling some of the worry she'd been holding about his health loosen. He seemed well enough, though she would not be easy until she had a chance to examine him more carefully.

"It is good to see you back, my lord."

"It is good to finally be back, Janet." Cameron turned to Cassie, who likewise curtsied. "Cassie, have you gotten taller?" he teased.

Cassie blushed and sputtered. "Not that I know of, my lord."

Cameron grinned, pretending to measure her height against his chest. Cassie pushed him away and he hooked an arm around her neck, squeezing her gently. "It is good to see you both, but my cousin and my squire could not be bothered to meet me?"

Janet could see that underneath his relief was a great tension. She knew being away from Cheyenne at such a time must have been stressful for him. Whatever the king might have demanded of Cameron, his heart would have been here, where he belonged.

They began to walk back into the city, Cameron leading his horse while Janet explained the events of the last few days. Cameron walked with his other arm still around Cassie in a brotherly fashion, but Janet did not miss the expression on her daughter's face as she looked up at him. Putting that concern aside for another time, she went on until someone approached them and stopped short with an audible, "Oh!"

Everyone halted and Cameron straightened, his arm falling away from Cassie and his other hand dropping the horse's reins as he startled at the sight of Princess Carolyn. Janet managed to grasp the fallen leads before the horse could wander away while Cameron belatedly remembered his manners and bowed. "Your Highness, I had not expected... that is, I did not think to see you so soon."

The princess curtsied and grinned at Cameron in a mischievous fashion that surprised Janet. "I did not mean to come upon you so suddenly, again," she said with a saucy look.

Cameron chuckled. "It is a rather bad habit of yours, my lady."

Cassie got a rather displeased look at the flirting between Cameron and the princess, but the scene was interrupted by a noise from up the street and moments later John came hurrying around a corner. Nicholas was only a few paces behind him.

John and Cameron embraced, and Janet smiled at the twist of fate. This time, the cousins were the last to meet when one of them finally returned home.

*~*~*~*

Thankfully, everyone seemed to grasp that John would need to speak with his cousin privately. Nicholas took Cameron's horse to the stables, Janet and Cassie hurried back to the house ahead of them and in the tumult of people staring and calling out greetings to their returned lord, John actually lost track of the princess.

Cameron looked tired but well enough, John noted as they retired to his own room. There was no other space in the manor for Cameron to sleep. They were not alone for half an hour though, before someone knocked on the door and servants came in with a tub and buckets of water. John assumed Janet had sent them and exchanged a rueful smile with his cousin.

When they were by themselves again, Cameron began to strip out of his dirty clothing and resumed peppering John with questions. Janet had told him of the arrival of the Asgard and the shock of supplies coming from Icaria, followed by Princess Carolyn's appearance yesterday.

"She organized the supplies herself?" Cameron asked, wiping dirt away from his face and neck, when John reached that point in his own recounting of the last few days.

"It appears so. I confess I was surprised by her initiative, though also very grateful."

Cameron nodded. "She seems to be an extremely shrewd young lady."

John opened his mouth but the question he wanted to ask seemed to stick in his throat, and before he could find his voice, Cameron asked for more particulars about Cheyenne and their supplies.

Cameron seemed to have been informed by the king that some of the Asgard had intended to come to Cheyenne, but he'd only learned this on the way to the border. John explained the potatoes, omitting any references to Atalan from the narrative, and the rush to get the ground ready. "We hope to have the first fields planted tomorrow or the day after. It is not enough, but it is a start."

Cameron finished cleaning himself and straightened up, throwing the washcloth at John with a grin. "That explains why you look like you've been making mud pies."

John rolled his eyes. "We needed every available hand to prepare the fields," he said. He intended it to be light-hearted, but his voice was defensive rather than joking. He snapped his mouth shut, irritated with himself that he could apparently no longer take a harmless joke.

Cameron's thoughts were going in a different direction, though. He put a hand on John's shoulder, his expression remorseful. "I'm sorry, John. I should have been here-"

He waved a hand. "No, that was not... it was not your fault, Cameron. I sent you, and I did not mean to imply I thought ill of you for not being here. I was just..." He scrubbed his face with a hand and settled for the truth. "I am tired and hungry and at my wits end dealing with the problems here, both the real ones and the manufactured ones."

His cousin's eyebrows went up. "Manufactured ones?"

John sighed and glanced at the window. The light was slanted heavily, meaning the work in the fields would cease soon. He might as well wash himself before supper. He stripped off his soiled tunic and began to tell Cameron of Malchus and his devious map.

Cameron looked like a thundercloud as he listened to the story of how Malchus was attempting to manipulate the situation for his own ends. He knew these men better than John did, of course, having lived among them longer than John had. It was somewhat comforting to hear Cameron's unvarnished opinion of Malchus, and even more so to give vent to his own feelings on the matter.

By the time he was himself clean and dry, he had explained his and Gairwyn's plan regarding the map. Cameron was dressed and sprawled on the low chair near the fireplace with his feet propped up. Keeping his back to his cousin, John fished for a clean set of clothes in his belongings and finally asked, "What of your trip? Was it a success?"

"The king seemed to think so," Cameron said with an audible shrug. "He said progress had been made that would otherwise have taken years. I was struggling to keep awake for most of it. There was talk of trade balances and maintaining better routes of travel through the Talas, but without knowing the disposition of the Sodan within Caldora, the king could not deal in specifics. The queen has offered rather generously to continue supplying us with what her country is able to spare in the way of food and material supplies."

John nodded, pushing aside the way his own heart sped up slightly. He knew Elizabeth's compassion would not allow her to do anything less. "What did Henry offer in return?"

Cameron looked slightly sour. "There was talk of selling wool to Atalan directly rather than through the intercession of merchants."

John paused, slightly alarmed by this news. To survive the winter, far more of the animals would be needed for food than normal, which would likely reduce the wool supply. As helpful as the profits from dealing with Atalan would be, feeding the people was of a higher priority than meeting a trade agreement.

"No amounts were specified," Cameron added, much to John's relief. He would have to speak to the king about this at some point, but there was much to do before that became an issue.

John finished dressing himself and Cameron cleared his throat. "There was something else." He froze, but Cameron did not speak on the subject he was both longing and fearing to hear. "Master Thor was there. He demonstrated the gunpowder to the Atalanians."

The roaring echo of the sound came back to him in an instant. He pushed the memory away. "And?"

Cameron looked unhappy. "I do not think the queen welcomed this new development. I also suspect King Henry was not overly pleased that the Asgard shared it with the Atalanians now."

John could well imagine Elizabeth's reaction to something so potentially destructive. She hated violence and everything in her strove to avoid it whenever possible, though John knew it was not from weakness but conviction that she behaved so. He also did not doubt that if her people were threatened, she would stop at nothing to defend them.

He was somewhat surprised that Atalan hadn't known about gunpowder already and that Henry would have assumed they did not. The Asgard had been safely harbored in the country for generations. That they would share such a thing with the strangers in Caldora before their own neighbors was odd, but then, it also explained why Thor would feel compelled to correct the imbalance as swiftly as possible.

John knew the development of the gunpowder could have serious ramifications for the two countries and all others. Such an advance in weaponry could not be ignored by all their neighbors, especially enemies. Given how effective it had been against the Goa'uld, none of them could afford to be left behind in this development. However, John was not the King of Caldora. His responsibility was to his people and his province. The defense of the nation he could leave in other hands, and at the moment, his hands were dangerously full as it was. He put the issue aside with a small shrug, and nudged Cameron's legs from the empty chair so he could sit down and put his boots back on.

But when he was seated opposite his cousin, he looked up and bit his lower lip. Cameron was staring at him expectantly. "Did you give the queen my message?"

"Yes. She did not have time to compose a reply by hand."

John looked away. He had been hoping for something, any word coming from Elizabeth to him, just to give him hope that she still remembered him, at the very least.

"She did send a message, though," Cameron continued. John's head snapped back up. "She spoke to me just before we left and asked me to tell you that she understands."

He could see Cameron was suppressing his curiosity. His cousin had not read the note, and other than his open loyalty to Elizabeth and Atalan, John had never confessed anything else regarding her or his feelings to Cameron. And this was not the time.

He had been praying for days that Elizabeth would not hold it against him that circumstances had required him to stay away. Now Cameron was assuring him that Elizabeth was not angry with him for being absent, yet it felt painfully cold. She had not written him, had not sent a private word back to him. Just a few words sent through his cousin, to be conveyed at a convenient moment. It was a tacit acknowledgment, born of duty and friendship. It was all that Elizabeth owed him and more than the Queen of Atalan was required to do for a mere knight.

Perversely, it made John want to go north and confront her, see for himself whether she bore another man's ring on her finger, whether that one moment in the stables had been merely born of surprise and inexperience or something more.

He couldn't, of course. He sighed, nodding to Cameron and rising. He opened the door just as the servant was about to knock, to tell him the evening meal would begin soon and that the princess, Lady Gairwyn, Mistress Janet and Nicholas were all asking for them.

John shot Cameron a harried look as the servant retreated. He put a hand on his cousin's arm and said tiredly, "I am very glad you're home, Cameron."

He just laughed. "So am I, John."


	4. From The Ashes Of Our Fathers (4/4): stargate_ren

Meta info in Part 1 [here](http://community.livejournal.com/stargate_ren/17663.html)

And now, the conclusion.

  
Cassie could hardly believe what a difference three days had made to the mood of Cheyenne. To be sure, there were still grumblings from people, and there seemed to be something worrying Lord John and Lady Gairwyn, for they were closed with the Asgard several times during the day, and their food was still rather pitiful, even with the extra supplies. But four nights ago the city had been nearly silent in the dusk, and she had thought to herself that it already resembled a graveyard. Now fires flickered in various places and people sat around them talking with energy, if also still with some anxiety.

Mother said she was still concerned about the possibility of disease from the lack of food. The city and the province were not secure for the winter yet, but even within herself, Cassie felt a sense of hope.

She was aware, though, that her own feelings perhaps had more to do with Lord Cameron's return than anything else. He looked fatigued, as if he had been working heavily even though he supposedly had gone with the king for his health. Mother had corralled him earlier in the evening to check for herself and she said nothing, but Cassie was only too happy to bring Cameron his food and something to drink when they settled in the courtyard for the evening meal.

She had not bargained on the princess sitting with him and Lord John. When Princess Carolyn smiled at Cameron or laughed at something he said, Cassie felt a strange, cold sensation in her stomach. She found herself thinking rather dark thoughts about the lady. But, ridiculously, when the princess shifted her attention to John and Cameron looked slightly put out, Cassie nearly rose from her seat with indignation. How dare she ignore Cameron in that fashion?

Except, did she really want the princess fawning over Cameron?

"Have you forgotten how to use your fork, Cassie?"

She startled. Cameron was grinning at her and she realized she had a helping of her rice balanced in the air above her plate, unmoving. Her cheeks flushed bright red and she stammered, "No, I just... remembered something I forgot to do." She set her arm down, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her.

Instead, Cameron leaned closer and spoke more quietly, "How have you fared these last few weeks? I've not really seen you since the militia left Madrona."

"I am well enough. The last week has been more trying than the ones that came before," she managed to say.

"You and your mother both look exhausted. You should not overtax yourselves so," Cameron said kindly. "Though I know my cousin is most grateful for your aid. There are grown men who would have balked at taking on the task of aiding the city in this state." He tugged on the braid of hair that hung over her shoulder, something both he and Nicholas had done for years. Then he smiled. "You're a brave girl."

Cassie was torn between pride at him calling her brave and indignation at his calling a woman of eighteen a girl.

She was, of course. To Cameron, she was the daughter of his family's friend, almost a young relative, someone he treated like a little sister. She would never be anything else, she realized with a pang. It had been easier to think of him differently when he was far away, fighting in a battle to save the country. Now that he was home reality had struck her with almost physical force. Oh what a fool she had been, these last weeks, prancing about with silly dreams about him!

Cameron did not help matters when he lifted her chin with his fingertip. "Cassie, what's wrong?"

The genuine concern in his face did not help with the tears welling in her eyes, but in that moment she almost hated him for being so kind when she was so humiliated. She stood hastily. "Nothing, my lord. The fire - my throat is dry. I must get some water."

She hurried away before he could say or do anything else, plunging headlong through the crowds towards the well near the back of the courtyard.

*~*~*~*

Nicholas was threading through the people gathered in the courtyard with his plate in his hand. Last night as well there had been a far greater number than before, and he suspected it was the fact that the princess sat among them which was drawing such crowds. It was not often that the future monarch of the country was settled blithely on a bench within a few yards of the common folk, even if she was surrounded by the nobility of Cheyenne at the moment.

Nicholas was mostly interested in Lord Cameron. He was greatly relieved his master had finally returned, and that he appeared well. Janet had not been the only one worrying about Cameron's health these last several days. As for his whereabouts, Nicholas had his suspicions from things Lord John had said – or rather attempted not to say – but that was not his business until one of them chose to make it his concern. For now he just wanted to sit and eat his supper in peace.

Because he was looking towards Cameron, Nicholas saw Cassie leap up from her seat and rush away. Even from a distance Nicholas could not miss that she was upset about something, but what in the world could Cameron have said to cause such a reaction from her?

The sick feeling in his stomach, the one he'd first felt when he and Cassie had spoken of his master the other night, swooped down on him unexpectedly. He looked at Cameron, who appeared confused at Cassie's sudden departure, and some of his good will and affection dribbled away. Logically he knew it made no sense, but if Cameron had done something to hurt Cassie in some fashion... if he had toyed with her affections...

Cameron would not have done that, Nicholas reminded himself. He _had_ not. Nicholas knew them both. He was being a fool, thinking such things.

Involuntarily, his eyes sought Cassie out again, just in time to watch her crash into a hulking figure near the back of the courtyard, away from the fire. He was too far away to hear anything being said, but he could tell Cassie muttered something and would have kept her course across the room, but the man put a hand on her arm.

Nicholas' eyes narrowed.

The man dragged Cassie back towards him. She said something – and knowing her as he did, Nicholas was certain it was not a polite or delicate apology – and the brute shook her, hard.

Cassie went pale. Then the bastard reached out and grabbed her breast.

Everything in his vision faded to a white haze, except for Cassie and the man threatening her. Even in the middle of battle, Nicholas had never felt such unadulterated rage. He knocked people out of his way without noticing, intent on his target, and he did not even hear the crash of his plate falling from his hands, nor the sound of the blade as he drew his sword and laid the sharp edge against the bastard's throat.

"Take your hands off her, or I will remove them for you," he gritted out.

*~*~*~*

The ring of steel being drawn caught the attention of everyone and John jumped up on instinct. It took a moment to figure out where the noise had come from, but the entire crowd fell silent and John stared.

Nicholas had his sword to the throat of a man at least twice his size. The man had his hands on Cassie. The blade tightened closer to flesh and Nicholas spat angrily, "Take your hands off her, or I will remove them for you."

John was hustling through the gawking crowd immediately, Cameron just behind him. The bastard who was threatening Cassie released her and Janet raced in and put her arms protectively around her daughter, glaring at her attacker, who lifted his hands in supplication. Nicholas was still behind him.

It did not escape John's notice that if Nicholas shifted his hand just the tiniest bit, the man's blood would run. It would take very little force for the wound to be mortal.

John did not recognize the filthy scum, but he drew upon his anger and years of practice and bellowed, "What in hell do you think you are doing, sir? Mauling the daughter of a respectable lady, a friend to my family and my father?"

The fool had either not been in Sheppard for long or was too stupid to realize who Cassie was and what her connection to the marquis was. Not that it mattered. John would have been as angry had the bastard assaulted one of the serving girls. Though he doubted Nicholas would have been quite so livid, had that been the case.

"I didn't mean no harm, my lord," the man babbled, his head tilted back, trying to get away from the cold steel at his throat. "It were just a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding that you thought justified putting your filthy hands all over an innocent girl?" Cameron thundered, standing to John's right. Cameron looked upon Cassie like she was family; they had more or less grown up together. He was almost as angry as Nicholas.

John made no move to tell Nicholas to back off, but he stepped forward, using his height to stare down into the beady black eyes of the villain. "If you raise your hand or so much as cross your eyes at her or any other woman in this country again, I'll leave you at the Goa'uld border myself. You'll find a warm welcome out in the desert with no water or food, that I can promise you."

The man went even paler, clearly aware that John was not exaggerating. Finally John shifted his gaze to Nicholas. He'd seen that look before, and he knew of only one way to distract the young man from the bloodlust he was feeling right now. "Master Nicholas," he said formally. "Please escort Mistress Janet and her daughter into the manor." Nicholas blinked slowly and John stepped carefully around the still-frozen man and placed a hand on the squire's other arm. "I am making you personally responsible for their safety for the rest of the night, Nicholas."

Gradually he saw the anger fade and Nicholas came back to himself enough to draw his sword back, though he slid the flat of the blade dangerously close to flesh as a silent warning before putting the weapon away. He turned to the two women and Janet shot John a quick, grateful glance as she and Nicholas escorted Cassie from the room.

The offender stumbled out of the courtyard and the remaining crowd burst into excited chatter. Gairwyn and the princess watched the other man leave, fury in both their faces. Cameron was watching the other three people departing until John caught his eye.

"I was going to ask you why you hadn't knighted Nicholas already," John said casually.

Cameron shrugged. "It was on my list of things to do. I have been a bit busy lately."

*~*~*~*

Her hands were trembling.

Cassie had worked side-by-side with her mother most of her life. She had seen terrible pain and suffering, sights which would make a grown man faint. Though her stomach had rebelled on more than one occasion, she had always remained outwardly calm.

Now her hands were shaking.

Mother bustled about, wrapping a shawl around Cassie and muttering maledictions against the bastard downstairs under her breath. At any other time, she would have laughed, but everything seemed to be moving differently somehow.

Nicholas was standing at the window, his back to her, his entire body rigid with anger. He seemed almost like a stranger to her. The man who had charged across an entire room to get to her, who had clamped a hand down on her attacker and then nearly slit the man's throat was not her old friend. He was not the boy she had teased and mocked for so many years, who pulled on her braid when she annoyed him, who had once dunked her into a watering trough in revenge for some prank.

It should have frightened her, the rage in his eyes when he finally looked towards her in the courtyard. But his fury was strangely comforting.

Embarrassment began to creep back into her thoughts, though. The entire confrontation had been her own fault. If she hadn't felt like such a fool and raced heedlessly across the room, she never would have collided with that brute and given him the excuse to grab her. Or at the least she would have been more self-possessed and dealt with his unwanted hands as she had in the past, with a swift kick to the groin. Instead she'd been insensible and Nicholas had had to upset the entire place to help her.

Cassie recoiled, looking down at her trembling hands. She heard Mother say something low to Nicholas and then there was silence.

His hand came down on top of hers and she startled. She hadn't realized he'd approached. Nicholas crouched down before her, looking up worriedly. "Cassie?"

She looked at her lap again. Her hands were not pretty. They were hardened by work and browner than a lady's hands would be. She'd never felt ashamed of that, but Nicholas' hand was still larger than her own, and warm and heavy lying on top of her fingers.

Staring down at him, Cassie recalled the other night, when he'd burst out in anger over what Gilbert had been saying. She'd teased him about the war changing him, but now she wondered whether it had been more than a joke. She could not deny the evidence of her own eyes. Nicholas was not the same boy who'd left Madrona weeks ago.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently.

Time and the war had altered him, but he was still her friend.

"Thanks to you," she said quietly, her voice full of gratitude.

Even in the dim firelight she saw his ears turn dark as he flushed. He laid his free hand atop hers as well and she squeezed his fingers tightly for a moment, feeling a glimmer of a smile on her face. He had made rather a spectacle of himself tonight too.

Neither of them heard the small creak in the hallway that faded into silence quickly.

*~*~*~*

Carolyn followed John, Cameron and Gairwyn to the house of the lord governor of Cheyenne the next morning. She had determined this would be her last day in the city. Cameron reported that he had raced to reach home as quickly as possible, so her father's party would reach Redwater in a few more days. She needed to return to catch her father up on what he had missed, and also to hear more detail regarding the summit. Cameron was not the best witness on that score, unfortunately.

Also she was well aware that every bite and morsel of food in Cheyenne was extremely precious. She had done what she came to do – delivered the supplies and assured the people they were not forgotten by the crown. She had no special knowledge of growing crops or constructing buildings. There was little else she could offer to the people or to John. She would not linger and be a drain on their limited resources.

She was glad to have seen Cameron arrive home safely. His injuries in the final battle with the Goa'uld had been serious, and the strain of riding to Atalan and back could not have been beneficial. She was relieved that he seemed more healthy and steady than when he and John had torn out of the Caldoran war camp shortly after news of the attack on Cheyenne had arrived.

Carolyn also admitted to herself that she was a bit disappointed. The work in Cheyenne would probably keep both the lords of Sheppard from Redwater for some time. That was most unfortunate.

They filed into the large hall of the lord governor's house and she politely refused a seat at the table and settled herself in a corner. She was here as an observer, at Gairwyn's suggestion. She did not feel it her place to seat herself in the middle of everything.

Lord Malchus, a rather unctuous man of middle years, arrived shortly thereafter, with a number of men in tow. Others trickled in and she was introduced to the ones she had not already met until finally Master Hermiod arrived. Carolyn was slightly surprised at this. All she had been told about this meeting was that it concerned the rebuilding of Cheyenne, and that the princess should hear the plans being put forth so that she could convey them to her father. She was not clear how the Asgard were related to this and her confusion seemed to be shared by Lord Malchus.

Elrad, the lord governor, convened the meeting, offering up greetings to her and to the Asgard priest before he looked to Gairwyn. "We are here to discuss the rebuilding of the peninsula of the city. I understand that the Countess of Cimmeria has something she wishes to say on this matter."

Gairwyn nodded and stood. "My lord marquis, governor, gentlemen, now that we are making some progress in supplying Cheyenne with enough food to survive until the harvest, I wish to share with you an idea I had regarding the rebuilding of this great city. As you all know, Cheyenne was one of the foremost cities in Cimmeria even before we joined with Sheppard." Gairwyn shot a small smile at John, and he grinned slightly.

"The primary reason for Cheyenne's prominence was its proximity to the great temple built by the Asgard. In the time of my ancestors, people from all over these lands, and even from far beyond Caldora's current borders, came to seek the wisdom of the Asgard at the temple, and bring their trade to Cheyenne." Gairwyn folded her hands together. "It has occurred to me that the gracious return of the Asgard order to these lands presents us with an historic opportunity. On behalf of the city, I have spoken to Master Hermiod and invited his counsel on the project of rebuilding Cheyenne."

Carolyn watched in fascination as Lord Malchus' face turned an unbecoming shade of purple. The man stared from Gairwyn to Hermiod and finally to the marquis. John looked back at him, outwardly calm, but there was a glint in his eyes that made Carolyn shiver. She understood the hostility passing quietly between them a moment later.

One of the other nobles raised a hand in protest. "What about the plans already provided by Lord Malchus? Why should we burden the Asgard with redoing work that has already been accomplished?"

"When I first had the notion, I was unaware of Lord Malchus' proposal," Gairwyn said soothingly. "When I spoke to Lord John on the matter, he suggested we appeal to the Asgard anyway."

All eyes turned to John and Carolyn realized this had been planned. John and Gairwyn and probably Master Hermiod had orchestrated this moment. From merely meeting Malchus she was dubious about any plan he would have put forth regarding the rebuilding, and for John to have accepted it would have been dangerous favoritism at the least. It was not something he could have allowed to happen, and it appeared he and Gairwyn had realized the Asgard presented a convenient way out of the dilemma.

John folded his hands on the table. "I mean no disrespect to Lord Malchus, but I had concerns regarding his proposal. For us to endorse the use of a plan drawn up by one of the powerful men in the city would engender a great deal of bad blood from those who were not consulted in the drawing of the new map or placement of the roads, even though the plan was a sound one," he nodded towards Malchus politely. The other man barely reacted. "We all of us know how much even a perceived slight can cause indefinite tension among neighbors."

There was a small round of laughter at that.

"Master Hermiod," Gairwyn said, turning to the tiny man. "Have you brought the plans we spoke of?"

"I have, my lady."

The parchment was placed upon the table. Carolyn was able to see enough to understand that the roads in the peninsula would be redrawn in a fairly straightforward pattern, and what appeared to be a public square would be created near the point where the two rivers met. Hermiod spoke of the possibilities for gardens and a space to stage entertainments for the people, at the behest of the marquis, the countess, or the governor. Also several small creeks and streams that crisscrossed the peninsula were to be covered over and used to drain waste away from the city, a practice Hermiod said the Ancients had employed long ago, and which could be most useful in preventing outbreaks of disease.

There was a long debate following this revelation. Carolyn watched as the various men in the room gave their opinions and haggled over the placement of streets and wells. Lord Malchus was conspicuously silent, only speaking when Lord Elrad called for a vote and the Asgard plan was unanimously adopted.

Her eyes kept returning to John as the discussion went on. When she had first seen him in Redwater all those weeks ago, she had hardly recognized him. The laughing young man she'd once known had been replaced by a grim and world-weary soldier. In the brief time following the battle with the Goa'uld, before he departed the camp, she had seen him start to relax slightly and had gotten glimpses of his old self underneath the more serious and sober face he had grown into.

This situation, however, was different. Many men who would not flinch on a battlefield would be helpless in the face of this kind of scheming. The point of a sword was no solution. She had dealt with a dozen problems of precisely this nature within the court in the last few weeks. She knew full well the kind of wits required to navigate through them successfully. It was not a skill she had expected of John, and she was both surprised and pleased to discover she was wrong.

John of Sheppard had changed. He had grown into a strong man and a good leader. The kind of man Caldora would be lucky to have as her king.

*~*~*~*

It wasn't until well into the afternoon when Cassie finally rebelled against her repeated looks of concern. "Mother, I am fine. Please."

Janet sighed heavily. Her daughter had been assaulted in full view of a few dozen people and then rescued at the point of a sword last night. She had every reason to be worried about her today, but she relented with a wave of her hand and tried to keep her eyes from drifting to stare at her girl again.

Of course, the attack the previous night was only half the reason Janet was keeping a close eye on her daughter. She'd gone to fetch water for the calming tea she wanted to give Cassie and come back to spy through the doorway Nicholas kneeling before Cassie and holding her hands. They had been looking at one another very intently.

Janet was more than a little confused. For several weeks, she'd been certain that Cassie was somehow nursing an affection for Lord Cameron. She'd seen ample evidence of it, but never found a good moment to introduce the subject. Cassie could be a bit prickly in her temper. Janet recalled the one time she had teased Cassie, when a young man had been rather clumsily and obviously trying to flirt with her. Cassie had been in a foul temper as soon as Janet mentioned it and then sulked for days. It wasn't a topic Janet had wanted to revisit if at all avoidable.

Not that she'd assumed it would never come up. She was happy that Cassie had followed in her footsteps but she had known some day perhaps a young man would catch her daughter's eye.

She just hadn't expected it to be Nicholas, not after the last few weeks.

Evening fell and unlike the previous nights, Lord John and his close companions retired to a small room off the kitchen of the manor. A short burst of rain in the afternoon had brought a chill that made eating out in the courtyard less pleasant. Janet also would not have been surprised if Lord John wanted to protect her and Cassie from any memories of last night's events.

The princess was also being exceptionally kind and drew Cassie into a conversation not long after the meal began. The two were not far apart in age and though slightly tongue-tied, Cassie eventually relaxed as they talked.

Lady Gairwyn arrived and settled herself next to Janet. In a low voice, she inquired, "How is she?"

Janet repressed another sigh. "As well as can be expected," she replied.

"That was a rather impressive display from young Nicholas," Gairwyn said.

Janet glanced towards the squire. When she and Cassie had brought in the plates of food, Janet had been unable to resist watching them and seen the look which passed between Nicholas and her daughter. It had been both awkward and warm and both young people had looked slightly flushed.

She looked back to see Gairwyn attempting to smother a smile. Janet narrowed her eyes. "Do not start."

Gairwyn chuckled. "All I am saying is that one rarely sees that kind of protective instinct in a young man for any woman who is not his family or his beloved."

"They have known one another a very long time," Janet began, although in her own heart she didn't really believe it.

Gairwyn would not hear her, however. "Please, Janet, you are no fool. The way they look at each other is not the ardor one feels for a sibling." She could come up with no response and the lady grew hesitant. "Do you have some objection to the idea?"

"No," she said immediately. "Nicholas is a good boy. He is honorable and trustworthy. I just..." she fumbled for words for a moment. "I had no notion of this occurring and I am caught off guard by it, is all."

"For what it is worth, I think they are as well. I'd not noted any particular affection between them in the last weeks. But then, I had not really observed them together before this," Gairwyn said diplomatically.

"So it may pass," Janet said thoughtfully.

Gairwyn rolled her eyes. "You cannot keep her a child forever, Janet. We both know when two young people start to feel an attachment to each other they are unlikely to change their minds even when there are obstacles in their way. When there are none..." She trailed off but the conclusion was obvious.

It was unseemly for a woman of her age to pout, Janet knew, but she blew out an irritable sigh. "This is far more pleasant when my own daughter isn't the subject."

Gairwyn chuckled, then dropped her voice to a whisper to ensure they were not overheard. "For example, the princess and John?"

Janet moved her eyes away from Cassie towards John and Cameron. They were speaking with Nicholas at the moment. The princess, while she talked to Cassie, kept glancing towards John. This was not an uncommon occurrence over the last few days.

Janet looked back to Gairwyn. "So you've noticed it as well?"

"Yes. I wonder if Princess Carolyn's reluctance to accept a suitor is about to end."

Janet nodded. "Do you think John...?"

She didn't finish her thought but Gairwyn clearly understood her meaning. "I don't think so, but I can't be certain. He's been absorbed, body and soul, in salvaging Cheyenne for days now. He's had little time to turn his attention to anything else, even a beautiful princess." A small grin tugged at her lips that she fought to conceal. "John never was terribly bright about women."

Janet giggled and Gairwyn lost the battle and burst out laughing herself. Everyone in the room looked at them curiously, but the two women ignored them and resumed eating their food. Janet swallowed the last helping of rice and grew thoughtful. "Do you think it a wise match?"

Gairwyn hesitated. As Janet watched, Gairwyn looked towards Cameron for a moment, before glancing at John, and then back to Janet. She saw her own vague unease mirrored back in the lady's expression.

"Politically, I cannot say. As for themselves, I'm not sure either," Gairwyn admitted.

Janet felt much the same way.

Before they could speak further, young Gilbert appeared in the doorway. Behind him was a messenger wearing the insignia of the crown. The man bowed to the princess and John and Cameron and waited until the door closed behind him to speak. "Highness, my lords, the king requests you to return to Redwater with all speed."

Princess Carolyn glanced at John in alarm. "Is something amiss, sir?"

The messenger looked grave. "There is trouble, my lady. His Majesty instructed me to tell you it concerns the Sodan, and that he requires all three of you to return to court at once."

Janet was alarmed. She watched as John dismissed the messenger and sent him to get food, and then he turned to Cameron. For the king to summon them both, when Cameron had only just returned and so much work remained to be done in Sheppard, the situation in Redwater must be dire indeed.

It took only a minute for the nobles to shake off their shock. The princess quit the room to summon her guard, even though she was already prepared to leave the next morning. Gairwyn went to John, knowing he would leave her in charge in his absence. Cameron and Nicholas started conferring and Janet was unsurprised when Cassie appeared at her side. Without a word the two of them headed into the kitchen. Cassie went to start bundling food for the journey and Janet bustled down the corridor to locate the other supplies John and Cameron would need for their hasty journey to Redwater.


End file.
